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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23224990">chokers and guillotines</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeehonk/pseuds/yeehonk'>yeehonk</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gore, Gothic Romance, M/M, gothic horror</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 11:42:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>15,857</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23224990</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeehonk/pseuds/yeehonk</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Within the woods, the headless horseman roams. Should he call your name, it is too late, as your soul is his to claim.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jeritza von Hrym/Hubert von Vestra</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>73</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>welcome to my own personal hell i have decided to embark in i hope you enjoy it! this is extremely loosely based off of "the legend of sleepy hollow" but while rereading summaries of it for this i remembered it sucked so i'm simply doing what i want. thanks.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The night is silent. The woods surrounding the city are vast and thick, but all noises from within are confined there, as if they were locked up in a box. If one is to walk in, you’ll hear an abundance of wildlife—owls hooting, crickets chirping, frogs croaking mixed with the sound of the river flowing. It’s peaceful, enchanting even, beckoning outsiders to come inside and experience the delights.</p><p>But if you listen closer, you’ll hear it, faintly. The beat of hooves on the ground. It’s slow, heavy, but distinct, and grows closer. Alongside it is the clink of metal, armor shifting as something moves, and the scrape of a weapon against the ground. At this point, it’s not too late—one can still turn around and run.</p><p>But can you find the exit?</p><p>The woods are dark. The thick trees that keep the enchanting sounds inside of them make it impossible for even the moonlight above to do more than filter through in slivers. Where did you enter from? It’s impossible to tell. The hooves are getting closer, the metal clinking growing louder, and you can hear a whisper. </p><p>At that point, it’s too late.</p><p>For as soon as the horseman speaks your name, your soul will be trapped within the forest. Your body immobile, ripe for the slaughter that comes soon after. He’ll want your head, to replace the one missing on his own shoulders, leaving the rest of your body to decay in the ground, becoming part of this forest that was so enchanting to you in the first place. The horseman keeps riding, never satiated after the kill, and simply adding to his collection endlessly.</p><p>Some say he will never be sated until he finds his own head. Others posit that perhaps he’s lonely. Others still will say it’s simply a sick game for him. But whatever the reason, he stalks the woods each night, claiming anyone who dares to enter.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“What a fine day it is outside, do you not agree?”</p><p>“It’s overcast, Ferdinand.”</p><p>“Well—yes, it is, but is that not what you prefer?”</p><p>Letting out a deep sigh, Hubert turned his head to look at Ferdinand. The other man insisted they walk to the college together first thing in the morning, every day. <em> ‘It is what colleagues do,’ </em> he had insisted when protest was raised. So, it unfortunately became the routine. Ferdinand would meet him outside of his house every morning at 6am sharp, and accompany him on the near hour long commute to the college before classes started. It only took that long too because the other refused to step foot in the woods—of which cutting through would cut the walk time down by half. They’d argued over this countless times, but the other man’s superstitions outweighed the possibility of letting either of them sleep for another twenty minutes.</p><p>It was absolutely abysmal.</p><p>“While I prefer overcast weather,” he spoke, looking back at the road ahead of them. “It is more ideal when it’s spent indoors. There is nothing worse than dredging through the rain. Particularly when you make us go the long way.”</p><p>Ferdinand gave a sigh next to him, and he didn’t need to look to know the other man was shaking his head. “I do not understand how you can simply disregard the blatant threat the woods are. Regardless of your lack of superstition, you cannot deny the fact many people have entered those woods and never returned.”</p><p>“There has been no proof the woods are where they disappeared to.”</p><p>“Are you suggesting they simply wandered off, out of town then?” Ferdinand pressed. “Never bothering to send word back to their families here?”</p><p>“If they didn’t bother to tell their families they were leaving in the first place, don’t you think it follows they wouldn’t send word once they reached another destination?”</p><p>“I… Suppose you are right, but even still—”</p><p>“It is more likely they were taken down by <em> bandits </em> than a <em> headless horseman </em>, Ferdinand. If anything is lurking in those woods, it’s humans with no morals to be seen.”</p><p>This seemed to shut him up for the time being. Giving a sigh through his nose, he muttered a “Let’s just get to work”, before pushing ahead of the other man. Even with his supposed win of the argument for now, he adhered to following the path around the forest, knowing the discomfort going through it would bring to Ferdinand. As much of an annoyance as these morning trips had become, they were still colleagues, and in fact friends to a degree. He’d still prefer to be on good terms with one another.</p><p>So if it meant that for the time being, they had to avoid the woods, he would concede.</p><p>As they walked the slope up to the college, Hubert began to feel small droplets hit against his face. Perfect timing, he supposed. Had they taken any longer the two of them would be drenched. There was a firm hand slapped onto his shoulder that made him jump slightly as he looked over at the smiling Ferdinand.</p><p>“Now see, had we left later so as to take a shortcut, we would surely be caught in the rain.”</p><p>Giving a snort and a roll of the eyes as a response, he listened to Ferdinand laugh beside him as he shoved the door open. He didn’t bother to get into another argument this early in the morning, and the two of them had classes to get to. Dusting off the few droplets that had collected on his overcoat, he set off to the staff room to make a pot of coffee.</p><p>He could already tell this was going to be a long day.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>The rain refused to stop the whole day.</p><p>In fact, it only worsened as the day went on. Ferdinand had left early in order to make it back before night, fearing not only that it was going to be too dark to navigate properly, but that it was also going to get worse. He was right, about the latter, and now Hubert stood beside the window in his classroom wondering why he hadn’t thought to grab an umbrella this morning. There was no way he was going to get back home without becoming drenched to the bone in the process—not going the long way, at the least. </p><p>Staring at the woods, the conversation with Ferdinand from this morning rang in his head. He’d gone through the woods before, plenty of times before the other man started joining him on the commute, but even he avoided it at night. Supernatural entities or not, the woods were dangerous in the dark. It was a fairly straightforward shot through to get back home, but that was only if he didn’t get turned around. And if there <em> were </em> bandits in the woods as well… </p><p>Still, it was a better option than turning up on his own doorstep like a wet cat.</p><p>With another moment of consideration, he sighed and grabbed his overcoat, tossing it on. If he was going to die tonight, might as well do it going against what Ferdinand said.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>While they were dark, the woods also provided a significant amount of cover from the rain. Catching his breath at the very edge of them, Hubert let his eyes adjust as he made sure to slick his hair back out of his face as it had fallen from it’s styling. Where just outside of the border of trees it was pouring, the foliage made it fall at a more relaxed pace. Listening closely, all he managed to hear around him was the sound of the rain and a distant boom of thunder.</p><p>
  <em> Headless horseman… Who would believe such a thing. </em>
</p><p>Letting out a rather wheezy sigh, he started walking again, going as straight as he could. There was a lot of weaving around trees, much closer together than he remembered them being when he walked through in the day. Though the deeper he got, the more spaced out they became, and the harder the rain began to fall onto him. Picking up the pace just a bit, he kept moving, though still kept an ear out for any movement in the woods other than himself. All he managed to make out was the squish of the mud beneath his feet, and the occasional snap of a twig that he’d stepped on.</p><p>But while he kept moving forward, never pausing lest he get as drenched as he was trying to avoid, the trees never seemed to thicken again, noting that he was getting close to the other side. How long had he been making his way through them, anyway? It seemed as if it was never ending, and that he was spending more time wading through than if he had just gone around. Perhaps he should have done just that. Though, admittedly, he was much drier than he assumed he would be otherwise. Still, he’d hoped to at least be out of the woods if not at his home by now.</p><p>These thoughts were shaken from his head as he heard a snap coming from behind him. Freezing for no more than a second, he immediately picked up the pace. How had he not heard anyone approaching before then? He hadn’t been <em> that </em> distracted with his thoughts—it was as if they had appeared out of nowhere. Listening intently, he soon picked up the sound of hooves, and the shifting of metal armor.</p><p>That couldn’t be right.</p><p>
  <em> You’re imagining things, Hubert. Ferdinand got into your head—just keep going. </em>
</p><p>Locking his jaw, he pushed ever forward, shoving branches aside that were threatening to swat him down. The sounds behind him persisted, growing ever closer. He broke out into a sprint. They kept the same pace, as if confident to catch up to him no matter the speed he pushed himself to. The trees around him started to move apart again, before he found himself stumbling into a clearing, tripping over a root and barely able to steady himself. Swearing under his breath, he shot a glance behind himself, immediately regretting the decision.</p><p>A lantern bobbed side to side, dimly lighting the pitch black horse it was attached to and it’s rider. Seated on top was a set of armor—though the helmet was missing, and only darkness could be found from the neck up. In one hand, it held a scythe, though the blade was being dragged through the ground as it rode. </p><p>For all times for Ferdinand to be right about something, Hubert hated that this was it.</p><p>Snapping his head back forward, he picked up the pace again, full on sprinting through the rest of the clearing and back into the cover of the trees. This time, though, he could hear the fall of the hooves quicken as well. Great. The overconfidence was now thrown to the wind as it seemed to lose patience with him. He could hear the slice of trees and the subsequent crash as they fell behind him. Even the trees wouldn’t slow this… whatever this was, thing, down. He just had to keep running, no more looking back.</p><p>
  <em> “Mercedes…” </em>
</p><p>A ghostly whisper reached his ear, and it took all he had not to let it cause him to stumble or pause. He didn’t understand what the thing was calling out for, but he was sure it wasn’t him. Pushing further into the trees, they started to grow closer together once more. He was so close to getting out, but the sound of hooves beating down on the ground were right at his heels. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to push forward faster, feeling his heart beating in his throat and like his lungs were going to burst from pushing himself so hard. </p><p>
  <em> Just a little more, just a little more and you’ll be safe… </em>
</p><p>Ignoring the branches that scratched at his face and tugged at his coat, he squinted as the soft glow of lanterns adorning the street started to filter through the leaves. The city was so close, he was almost there. Behind him, he heard the shift of armor, as if arcing up to swing down. He was so close. <em> So </em> close. Screwing his eyes shut, he bit down on his lip and lunged forward, ducking his head just in time as the scythe sliced past—though not entirely missing him. </p><p>The sting at the back of his neck registered as he stumbled out of the last line of trees, gasping and wheezing as he doubled over in the open street. Heavy rain hit him a second later as he blinked and regained composure of himself. Spinning around to make sure he wasn’t still being chased, he was met with the pitch darkness of the trees. No lantern dimly bobbing side to side, no scythe glinting in its glow, no sound of the horseman to be heard at all.</p><p>Standing stock still, breathing heavy, he wondered if what he had seen was real at all. Reaching up to touch the back of his neck, he pulled his hand back and stared at his palm red with blood. </p><p>It was real, alright, and he was sure it wasn’t going to be the last time he saw it, either.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hubert woke up late, and to the sound of banging on his door. After getting home the night before, he had very eloquently slapped some spare bandages on top of the wound at his neck and promptly passed out from exhaustion, not even bothering to change. Peeling himself from the bed, he tore the bandages from his neck and tossed them aside for the time being. If who he thought was at the door was truly there, he did not want them seeing the loose bandages and making a fuss of it. The banging continued and he gave a deep sigh, shuffling to the door as he rubbed at his temples. There were many thoughts swimming through his head, and it along with the sound was giving him a headache.</p>
<p>Yanking the door open, Ferdinand nearly tumbled inside from knocking so hard. Exactly who he expected. Staring down at the man as he recomposed himself, he didn't say anything, but instead came up with about fifty responses to the many possible first words out of the other man's mouth.</p>
<p>"Hubert! You—you look half dead, frankly."</p>
<p>He gave a snort. Not what he would have placed as his first bet, but still expected. "I get that a lot."</p>
<p>"That is not…" He gave a sigh, clearly trying to figure out a better way to get at what he was trying to say. "I was quite worried when you did not answer right away, but I see now you were in no shape to. What happened to you?"</p>
<p>"Nothing 'happened' to me," a straight lie. "I simply got drenched to the bone due to the rain last night. I believe I caught a cold from it all."</p>
<p>"A cold…" Ferdinand seemed unconvinced, but Hubert's stone expression did not waver. "I-I see, then I take it you will not be coming into work today?"</p>
<p>"I thought such a thing would be obvious. I plan to spend the day in bed recovering."</p>
<p>Ferdinand gave a nod, and then flashed a smile. "Then I shall let your classes know you will not be in! I will also come by later with some soup to help you recover."</p>
<p>Hubert frowned at that. "Please, do not."</p>
<p>"My mind is already made up," he stated this as he turned to leave, giving a wave. "Rest well and recover, Hubert! I will be back before sundown!"</p>
<p>"Fantastic…" He muttered out as he gave a wave in return before shutting the door. Now he had to deal with Ferdinand taking care of him. At least he wasn't <em> actually </em> sick, or the thought might be more humiliating.</p>
<p>Standing with his hand on the door knob for a bit, he eventually let go and walked back into his house. He needed to start looking into that thing he saw last night. Find out whatever he could on it. Looking down at himself, he wondered how Ferdinand bought that excuse so easily with how muddied his clothes were.</p>
<p>Research would have to wait until he was properly cleaned up and bandaged.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>Hubert may be a professor and a scholar himself, but this certainly fell out of his bounds. He had no knowledge of myths and local legends—he stayed away from those sorts of things. They were silly rumors, hoaxes, and while ghost stories proved entertaining, he didn't believe in them in the slightest.</p>
<p>Or he didn't, until he had wound up toe to toe with one.</p>
<p>Which led him to an impasse on where to begin researching. He didn't know anything about what he saw aside from the rumors around town about a headless horseman roaming. And following rumors, especially those given to him by Ferdinand of all people, was not the best idea. Word of mouth was fairly untrustworthy.</p>
<p>So that led him to one option left.</p>
<p>Sighing, he stood outside a small little bookstore. He knew it all too well. Every nook and cranny of it—well, the ones that were physically accessible. Of which he was sure there were less of as it had been quite some time since he had been there. Pushing the door open, this rang to be true, as he had to shove the door quite a bit to push a stack of books away. Honestly, how this place got enough business to keep running was a mystery.</p>
<p>Stepping inside and around more books on the floor, he shut the door behind him. Staring at the rather cramped space, he squinted as he looked for the owner. He was sure they would be among the stacks somewhere. Seldom did they ever actually interact with customers, choosing instead to read their own stock and scrawl out notes. Truly, a terribly run business. But they were also a wealth of knowledge, and Hubert needed that right now.</p>
<p>Wading through the shelves and haphazard stacks of books, he eventually spotted the green moss of hair among a particularly high stack of books. It looked as though they hadn't even heard him come in, too engrossed in what they were pouring through at the moment. Just as usual.</p>
<p>"Linhardt," he spoke up as he approached, setting his hands on a stack of books that surrounded the other on their desk. "I see you haven't moved since I last saw you months ago."</p>
<p>At his words, the other's head tilted up ever so slightly, blue eyes staring at him a bit owlishly behind large spectacles. After a moment of what was probably registering who he was, a small smile appeared on their lips, and they set their pen down to prop their chin up on folded hands.</p>
<p>"Well if it isn't Hubert. I thought I would never see you again. I take it the heartbreak has finally mended?"</p>
<p>Hubert's brow twitched. "I would need a heart in the first place for it to break."</p>
<p>The smile stayed on Linhardt's face. "If not a heart I felt beat in your chest countless times, then I wonder what's trapped in there."</p>
<p>"I came regarding a business inquiry, not to exchange banter."</p>
<p>"Always to business with you," Linhardt mumbled out, sighing as they stretched for a moment before leaning back. "Fine, then. I'll pick at you later." Not something Hubert looked forward to. "What is it you want?"</p>
<p>"I need to know what information you have on... ghosts. Local legends, myths, faeries..." He frowned at the raised brow the other gave at the request. "I know it's a special interest of yours, so you're the best source for this. Ferdinand is only one for the local gossip."</p>
<p>"You are correct that I once held interest in such a topic..." Of course he was right. He had to deal with Linhardt bringing no less than five books on the subject to bed for a month. "And thus I have the best resources for it in my store, but well... Why exactly are you interested now? I distinctly remember you only having passive interest with specifically the ghost stories for entertainment only, calling belief in them 'foolish'. Unless..."</p>
<p>Leaning back forward, Linhardt hummed gently, eyes piercing into his own. Hubert was known to be hard to read at times with an expression of stone, but somehow, Linhardt always managed to break that. Their gaze felt like it was peering straight into his head. "...Perhaps you saw something that didn't make logical sense. Something that could only be explained by myths and faeries?"</p>
<p>“Spot on,” he grumbled out, eyes finally shifting away from the other’s. “I ran into that… ‘Headless Horseman’, I believe is what Ferdinand called it.”</p>
<p>He didn't have to be looking at Linhardt to know their interest was piqued at that. "You had a run in with the horseman and made it out <em> alive </em>and in one piece? I can hardly believe that—your lack of physical activity rivals my own."</p>
<p>Hubert gave a snort in response. They weren’t exactly wrong on that one. "I didn't exactly make it out <em> unscathed </em> from the encounter—just with my head still attached. I somehow managed to outrun it."</p>
<p>"Him," Linhardt corrected before pushing themself up from their desk motioning for Hubert to follow as they walked around it and down a row of bookshelves. "The horseman is believed to be the ghost of an old noble. It's not as if he was created out of whispers like some spectres. But show me your injury—I'm sure you treated it terribly."</p>
<p>Hubert frowned at that but kept his mouth shut. They weren't <em> wrong </em> about that, but he hated how well they knew him. How casual they still were with him. It made an older wound sting. Still, he complied, taking off his overcoat and turning to point at the back of his neck.</p>
<p>Linhardt's hands were warm as they pulled down his collar to see the dressings he'd haphazardly placed there. He heard a <em> tsk </em> from behind as they were removed and Linhardt set to work. "I know you can't see the back of your neck, but really, this is ridiculous."</p>
<p>"Yes, thank you for the ever helpful observations, <em> Doctor Hevring </em>."</p>
<p>That earned him a swab of alcohol pressed to the wound with no warning, causing him to hiss. "Be as sarcastic as you want but do remember I'm the one treating the wound. You're lucky though—it's not very deep. No stitches required."</p>
<p>"Very lucky indeed…" he muttered, not saying more and simply letting Linhardt work. </p>
<p>It only took a few minutes and a few more painful alcohol swabs before it was all taken care of and he was free of the other's hands. Shrugging his coat back on, he turned back around as Linhardt put the supplies back and was already moving again, this time actively scanning the shelves for a book.</p>
<p>"You listed off quite a deal of things to look into, but it sounds as if your main interest is just this horseman, no?"</p>
<p>Hubert nodded, walking behind them as they searched. "Anything that isn't word of mouth that I can get some information on would be useful."</p>
<p>Linhardt gave a snort. "Unfortunately the horseman is a more local legend, word of mouth is most of the information out there on him." Hubert was not happy to hear that, though should have expected it. "But… I <em> do </em> have one book on him. Somewhere in here, at least."</p>
<p>"We could be here for weeks of you searching the shelves."</p>
<p>"Oh hush, won't you," Linhardt huffed, glancing for a moment over at Hubert. "I have a system here even if you may think otherwise."</p>
<p>Hubert simply gave a 'hmm' in response before silently waiting for the other to produce this book. It took a bit, but eventually they were able to pull it out of a stack of other books. It was thin, and looked more like a diary than a book. Upon opening it, he learned that it may as well be, as it was all hand written.</p>
<p>"I came across this by chance, actually," Linhardt noted as they slid back behind their desk, beginning to organize the papers on top of it. "It was at the bottom of a box of donated books. I don't know the author of it, or who even donated it, but it seems to be a mix of a fairy tale and personal recounts. It's surely interesting—and has the most information there is on the horseman."</p>
<p>"But it could still all be made up." </p>
<p>They simply nodded in response, and Hubert pursed his lips. Something was better than nothing, but at the same time, how credible was this? Could it give him anything to go off of? He wasn't even really sure what he was looking for in the first place. A solution, maybe? A way to ensure his survival should he run into the horseman again? A way to <em> avoid </em> another run in?</p>
<p>His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening. Looking up from the book, he saw Linhardt staring over at the door in question, before a smile entered their features and they stood up to go toward a stack of books. "Mr. von Hrym, I was able to get the book you were looking for."</p>
<p>Brows furrowing as Linhardt spoke, he recognized that name immediately. Everyone in the city knew it—specifically because the owner of it was notoriously elusive. The local recluse, even. Many people, including Hubert himself, lived in this city for years and never once saw von Hrym. There were many rumors surrounding the man too, most were on how he looked—many opting to believe he was an old man, too weak to even leave his home. Other rumors posited he had died in his home, and no one noticed.</p>
<p>Turning however, he saw that all of the rumors about how von Hrym looked were incredibly false. He was tall, just a bit more so than Hubert was himself, and quite muscular with a pretty face. It was intimidating. But the man himself looked exhausted, eyelids drooped and thick dark circles were clear as day on his pale skin. Still, he was rather put together for someone that looked so tired. His long blond hair was tied back in a ponytail with a neat bow, his clothes were pressed and clean, and he seemed to wear a simple black choker with a brooch attached to it. Not something one would expect from a recluse that never seemed to leave his home. Most notably though, was how <em> young </em> he was. The rumors circulating about him had been spread since Hubert was a child, yet the man in front of him looked only a couple years older than himself. </p>
<p>“May I help you?” The voice snapped Hubert out of his thoughts, and his eyes up to meet cold blue ones. He’d been staring—not intentionally, but he had been regardless.</p>
<p>“I—no, my apologies,” he managed, turning away and spotting Linhardt smiling at him. He gave a frown in return.</p>
<p>“Mr. von Hrym, this is Hubert, a good friend of mine,” while their words were directed at the other man, their eyes stayed on Hubert. “He works up at the college as a professor.”</p>
<p>“I can introduce myself, thank you Linhardt,” he gave a strained smile to them before turning to once again look at the man beside him, extending a hand while the other still held the book Linhardt had handed him. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. von Hrym. I’ve heard word about you.”</p>
<p>“You may call me Jeritza,” his eyes seemed locked on him as if they recognized him from somewhere, and he did not move to shake Hubert’s hand. “I’m sure whatever you have heard about me is far more interesting than who I actually am.”</p>
<p>“Is that why you never leave your home? So as to not disappoint?”</p>
<p>He could have sworn there was a tug of a smile on Jeritza’s lips for a second, before it was gone and the man turned to look at Linhardt. “You stated the book I inquired about was here.”</p>
<p>The question and his hand were ignored, so Hubert retracted it. Staying home must have depleted all manners the other man had. Going back to flipping through the book in his hands, he found that not only was it hand written, it was also illustrated. There were plenty of sketches of the horseman inside, rather detailed ones too, as if the author was able to get an up close look at him. Flipping through still, the writing seemed to end, but there was a note at the end:</p>
<p>
  <em> Dearest E., </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> I know you miss her so, so I have tried to sketch her as you described. I hope I have done her justice. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Your friend, </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> B. </em>
</p>
<p>Glancing at the page next to it, there was nothing. Frowning, he flipped through more, but only found blank pages. Going back to the note, he squinted, only to see the faintest hint left of a page being carefully removed. So whoever this belonged to before took the image out—that seemed appropriate, the note made it sound like it was a gift. So was this whole book a gift to someone? For what reason would one write something like this for a friend?</p>
<p>"Linhardt," he spoke up, not caring if he interrupted the other's conversation with the other man. "You've read this before, correct? Do you know what this note is all about or even who the initials stand for?"</p>
<p>Turning the book over to them as their attention was grabbed, he noted from the corner of his eye Jeritza look as well, though what expression he wore was completely unreadable. Linhardt took the book into their hands, readjusting their glasses for a moment before sighing. Not a good sign.</p>
<p>"Unfortunately, I don't have answers to either of those questions," they sounded exhausted admitting this, as if it was something that taunted them daily. "I've gone through this book hundreds of times, but never have I been able to match the handwriting to any other documents or even find the image since removed. Whoever wrote the note, or the book for that matter, definitely didn't want to be found out. Using initials even for a personal letter…"</p>
<p>"What is the book about?" Jeritza's voice surprised the two of them as they both looked toward the other man. </p>
<p>"It's just some recounts of the horseman," Linhardt was the one that answered, handing the book back to Hubert, Jertiza’s eyes seemed to follow it. "The only book I have managed to find on him."</p>
<p>The cold blue eyes moved up to stare at him once again. "Do you have an interest in the horseman?"</p>
<p>"Only because he ran into him."</p>
<p>Hubert shot a glare towards Linhardt, who only smiled back. "I can answer for myself." They only gave a shrug in response before turning back to their papers to look busy.</p>
<p>Looking back at Jeritza, the other man's head was tilted slightly, as if to indicate interest, and he bore an expression that resembled something of looking impressed—though simultaneously… annoyed? Hubert was certain the other man had never properly emoted in his life from the few minutes they had interacted.</p>
<p>"You ran into the horseman and lived to tell the tale? That's no ordinary feat."</p>
<p>"You don't look much like a man that believes in superstitions and rumors," Hubert countered. </p>
<p>Jeritza gave a small shrug. "Neither do you, but here you are."</p>
<p>"Harder to disbelieve after you've seen something in the flesh," he muttered in response before speaking more clearly. "Since you seem to believe in him as well, what do you know of the horseman?"</p>
<p>Jeritza's expression grew a bit grave, and suddenly Hubert felt as if he shouldn't be there—as if he were in danger. "Once the horseman has spotted his target… he won't let it go. You may be safe for now, but that will only last for so long."</p>
<p>The words felt more like a threat than what he assumed was supposed to be a warning. A response was caught in his throat as he simply stared back at Jeritza, brows furrowed. The silence was cut between them when Jeritza turned back to Linhardt. "Thank you again for the book… I had been searching for a while for it."</p>
<p>When he turned back to Hubert, he extended his hand this time, and carefully Hubert took it. It was colder than he expected it to be. "It was nice to meet you, Hubert. I hope we can meet again sometime."</p>
<p>"I as well…" he managed out before the other let go of his hand. Watching as he left, he stared at the door for a moment before looking back at Linhardt. "He's weirder than you are, and frankly, that's saying something."</p>
<p>"Mm, but isn't that what you find most charming? I think he's a good fit for you," they gave an easy smile as he frowned. How nice of them to find some entertainment in prodding at Hubert’s love life with a mere stranger. A hand was extended out to him a moment later. "You can either pay me for that or hand it back over."</p>
<p>Rolling his eyes Hubert tucked the book into his coat. "I'll count this as repayment for the many favors you owe me."</p>
<p>Linhardt gave a pout, but didn't seem to argue it, simply resting their chin in their palm. "If I go out of business, I will put the blame on you."</p>
<p>"I will happily accept that burden," he gave a smirk as he turned to leave, giving a wave as he opened the door. "Try to move from that spot every so often. It would be a shame if you merged with the chair."</p>
<p>Whatever response Linhardt had for him was lost by the sound of the door shutting.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ferdinand had stayed true to his word and come over bearing soup. Where he had picked it up from Hubert didn't pry into, for as soon as Ferdinand had handed it to him, he shooed the other man out of his home and away. The other man had managed to squeeze in a few comments about resting up and how he still looked pale as death before the door was shut on him, but Hubert decided to not pay them any mind.</p>
<p>Setting the soup on the table, he ignored it for the time being and instead went back to pouring over the book he’d gotten from Linhardt. It was a rather short read, but it was useful nonetheless. The first part of it did indeed seem to be a fairy tale telling of the horseman—similar to the word of mouth rumors that circulated around the town itself. Perhaps this was someone’s attempt at cataloguing the horseman? It didn’t seem terribly old, a few decades at the most, maybe a wandering traveller that had run into him? That would explain why there wasn’t much on who the author of it was or why they were hard to track down.</p>
<p>Though it still didn’t match up with the note near the end. Was this really written for someone else rather than one person’s interest in learning more about the ghostly man that stalks the woods at night? It was hard to believe such a thing. But why else would the note be there, along with a page missing that clearly had an image of someone drawn on it? Someone that who this book was gifted to, cared for. He wondered if the author of this journal was still around. Perhaps they were someone he could seek out to speak to.</p>
<p>The warning Jeritza gave him earlier rang back in his head. If the author of this book <em> had </em> been close enough to the horseman in order to draw him… There was no chance they were still alive.</p>
<p>Thinking about what could have happened to them made his stomach churn, and he quickly shut the journal once more, leaving it and the soup on the table. He no longer found himself to have an appetite, and the exhaustion from the past 24 hours was setting in. Every muscle in his body ached from running—how he hadn’t noticed until now was only explained by the fact he was so caught up in trying to find information he simply glossed it over. Sighing, he decided it was probably best to turn in for the night, even though it was just becoming dark outside. He wasn’t going to get anywhere else tonight on learning anything without possibly putting his own life at risk.</p>
<p>Moving to his room, he quickly changed into his night clothes before blowing out the light and getting into bed. While his head was still swimming with thoughts on the whole ordeal, he tried to push them aside and get some rest. Closing his eyes, he thought once again about the warning from earlier, and how much it felt more of a threat.</p>
<p>
  <em> “You may be safe for now, but that won’t last for long.” </em>
</p>
<p>A sense of dread flooded into him as his consciousness slipped away to sleep.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Rain beat down around Hubert, though he didn’t feel the distinct chill of it on his skin. Looking around, he was in the woods. The ground below him was muddied from the rain, and his feet sunk into it easily as he walked through the trees. He didn’t have any recollection of making his way out here, and no matter how much he felt like he should be running, his feet would only move at the slow pace they were taking him currently.</p>
<p>There was an overwhelming smell of blood all around him, and it made him nauseous. Where was it coming from? It felt as if it was all around him, growing stronger in any direction he turned. Trying to block it out didn’t help either. His only choices were to keep going forward, try and find his way out of the woods, just like before.</p>
<p>It was impossible to tell where he was going, though. The density of the trees stayed the same. They neither spread further apart, nor grouped back together. He didn’t remember ever encountering something like this in the woods before. At least, not in the areas he had gone through—there was no telling where he would even exit should he find it.</p>
<p>Soon enough, the familiar sound of metal armor shifting rang into his ears, accompanied by the slow beat of hooves against the ground. It rang out all around him, not from one discernable direction. Still, his feet wouldn’t push himself forward any faster, slowly trudging his way through the trees, as the sounds slowly grew closer and louder. His heartbeat was oddly calm, keeping a slow, even tempo instead of feeling like it would beat out of his chest like before. </p>
<p>As the sounds grew to a point as if they were just beside him, they suddenly fell silent. A moment later, Hubert found himself pushing through the trees back into the clearing from the night before. The smell of fresh blood so close hit him immediately, and he felt like he was going to keel over from the nausea it produced. Looking down, he saw the source of the smell.</p>
<p>Before him was a mangled corpse, viscera pouring out of the abdomen. It was fresh enough that the blood was still flowing, though the rain was helping with washing it away from the body. The head was removed, but even without it Hubert recognized the body. It was his own, after all. Staring down at his mangled corpse, he felt immobile. Thoughts raced through his head as he tried to keep his nausea down, almost missing the movement from the corner of his eye.</p>
<p>Head snapping up, he saw in the distance the horseman, scythe bloodied and Hubert’s head in his hands. Though he wasn’t headless this time. Instead of where the pitch darkness sat before, Jeritza’s head was placed upon it, cold blue eyes staring over at him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hubert sat up with a start in bed, breath heavy and heart beating quickly as his shirt clung to his body from sweat. A hand shot up immediately to his neck, as if to make sure his head was still attached. The wound at the back of it stung as if it were on fire. </p>
<p>There was no way he was falling back asleep.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>sorry for the wait on this chapter!! you know how things are... but thank you so, SO much for the response on this fic, it means the world to me!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was a blessing that he didn't have classes the next day, else he was sure he'd collapse in the middle of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tired eyes staring up at the ceiling, he pushed himself up and out of bed. Perhaps he should try going back to sleep now that it was morning, but the overcast weather that persisted didn't make it feel as such. Throughout the night he had tried to fall back asleep only to be met with the vivid images of his dream lurking behind his eyelids. Thinking about it now made him sick. Sitting still for a moment in bed, he eventually mustered the strength to swing his legs over the side and hoist himself up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heading for the bathroom, he stared at himself in the reflection of the single, dingy mirror he had in there. The dark circles under his eyes were darker than normal, and he looked as pale as a ghost—though he supposed that wasn't too out of the norm. Drawing up a bath, he undressed as he waited for the water to fill the tub before sinking into it and letting himself relax. While his tired body desperately wanted nothing more than to fall asleep inside, his mind was replaying the dream for him, over and over. Was it supposed to be a warning in itself, or was this simply his brain connecting the fear he felt from the other man with that he had witnessed the night before? It seemed logical. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> met the other man while researching the horseman after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thinking about it like that seemed to calm his nerves for the first time since he woke up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finishing cleaning himself up in the bath, he sat for a moment more before getting out and draining it. Drying off quickly, he contemplated returning to his nightclothes in order to get some real sleep, as his mind was a bit clearer now, but that was dashed as he heard a knock on the door. Grumbling to himself, he hurriedly pulled on clothes that were a bit more decent before heading to the door. He swore if Ferdinand was here to deliver more soup—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"My, and here I thought I would come back to a more rested and happier Hubert, but you look just about as bad as I left you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blinking down at the smaller woman in front of him, he had to question for a moment if he was seeing things. When it was clear he wasn't, a smirk entered his features as he bowed dramatically, earning a giggle from the woman.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Lady Edelgard</span>
  </em>
  <span>," he mused, righting himself back up as she smiled up at him. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit? Clearly I have been a wreck without you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh please, Hubert, we aren’t children anymore, you can drop the extravagant and false formalities," though she said this, her smile never faded, hand gesturing past him. "May I come in to sit? The journey back was rather long and I believe we have much to catch up on."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Giving a nod, he stepped aside and gestured her in, shutting the door behind her. She didn't need any guiding to where to sit, finding her place at his table with ease and familiarity. Following behind, he walked past her to the kitchen attached, grabbing the kettle as well as preparing the pot for tea. While he preferred coffee himself, he knew Edelgard preferred tea, and he would accommodate as needed—just for her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I didn't expect you back so soon," he spoke as he worked, eyes glancing over at her briefly. "You generally write before a visit."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I felt like making a surprise trip," her response was punctuated with a warm smile, though concern was laced in. "After all in your last letter…"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hubert's lips thinned to a flat line. It had been months since he wrote the letter, let alone seen her, that he had all but forgotten about it. "I’ve moved past it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All he received in response was a 'hmm'. Standing in the kitchen in silence for a moment, it was soon enough broken by the squeal of the kettle. Removing it from the heat, he poured it into the pot and waited for it to steep, before serving two cups worth. Carefully bringing them to the table, he placed one in front of Edelgard while the other opposite of her, where he soon slipped into the seat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thank you," she didn’t move to sip at it, but instead rested her hands on the cup. “Rest assured I didn’t come just to bring up old wounds—how have you been otherwise? I don't want to make assumptions based on looks, but…"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I fully recognize I look like a walking corpse at the moment." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not much more than usual."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A smile tugged at his lips. It was quickly wiped away as he responded. "I didn't sleep well last night. Nightmares. Nothing I won't get over."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a look of surprise on her face as he said that. "What a surprise, I haven't known anything to haunt you. May I ask what the nightmares were of?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's nothing to concern yourself over."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She seemed unhappy at that response, but didn't vocalize such. She was more than well aware by now that he simply kept quiet on anything that could cause her more stress. It was important to him that she not worry about him when there was so much more she had to deal with in her own life. And she knew that. Perhaps it was unfair for him to not confide so much in her, but when he had she clearly worried about it enough to come for a visit months later—even despite what she said about this visit being otherwise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taking a sip from his own cup he watched as she picked up the book he had left on the table. Maybe he should have put it away proper—though he wasn't going to stop her from idly flipping through it. Having her ask too many questions about it though… that he would like to avoid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How has your treatment been going," he asked both in earnest as well as an attempt to keep her attention only half on the book.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well if it was going poorly do you think I would be here?” She glanced up at him with a raised brow. “It’s going quite well. I’m recovering faster than expected. Hopefully for good—but there’s no verdict on that yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And Lysithea?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The question caused her to stop looking at the book in total. She closed it gently and pushed it aside before taking her cup into her hands, staring at its contents for a moment before sighing and bringing it up to her lips. “She’s not doing as well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps it was the wrong move to bring her up. “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright, I did come in part to give an update on both our situations… Unfortunately her body isn’t taking the treatment as well as mine—perhaps because she has been ill longer…” There was a pause as she took a sip of her tea before setting it down, fierce eyes piercing into Hubert’s own. “But the doctors nor I plan to give up on helping her. Thankfully my family’s funds are not thin, and in the long run this will help many others should we both be able to recover successfully. Then whatever this plague is might be able to be wiped out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They still have yet to identify what it is?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not everything is cut and dry with explanations, Hubert.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t argue with that, most especially not after what he had been dealing with the past few days. So he left it at that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of her visit went on with more pleasant talk and it seemed the book on the table was all but forgotten about. When it came time for her to move on and go see her father, he offered to escort her there, to which she declined, telling him instead to get some rest. He needed it more than she needed a corpse walking her home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, and Hubert?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She spoke up as he moved to close the door, causing him to pause and give her his full attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That book on your table… Was that what caused you to have nightmares?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Staring at her for a moment, he gave a dry laugh and shook his head. “When have I ever been known to be shaken by such things? No, some </span>
  <em>
    <span>headless horseman</span>
  </em>
  <span> isn’t haunting me in my sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edelgard gave a soft smile in response. “I suppose that’s true. But who knows—I’ve been gone so long, I thought perhaps Ferdinand had gotten to you. What a tragedy that would have been.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that she gave a final wave goodbye and he shut the door, standing with his hand on the handle for a moment before locking it and stepping away. Moving through his house he gave a glance at the book on the table before heading back to his bedroom. Perhaps he should have been more forthright with her on what had happened. She was his best friend after all. But it was for the best he didn’t. Not with what else she was dealing with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Besides, just like him, she had never once believed in the ghost stories the town told.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Laying down in bed, he shut his eyes. The exhaustion he felt soon overtook all the other thoughts in his head, so much so that even the flickers from the nightmare couldn’t keep him conscious any longer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Hubert woke back up, it was raining again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Darkness consumed his room, and it took a bit of fumbling out of bed and lighting one of the lights in his room to see on the clock that it was already past four in the afternoon. Great. There went his whole day. Heading to the kitchen, he dumped the now cold pot of tea that had been left over from Edelgard’s visit in the morning, as well as tossed out the now definitely spoiled soup that Ferdinand had brought him the day before. Not that he would have eaten the soup had it not spoiled anyway. Though when thinking on it for a moment longer, perhaps he should have eaten it when it was good, as looking around the rest of the kitchen he realized he was rather lacking on food—and the ache in his stomach made him painfully aware of how long it had been since he last ate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing, he quickly cleaned up his clothes to be more presentable and slid on his shoes. Shrugging on his coat, he stared at the rain outside and grabbed the umbrella by his door. As he did so, the handle of it came clean off, leaving him to simply frown at it in his hand while the rest of the umbrella laid on the floor. Fantastic. Nothing was really going his way lately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tossing the handle down, he accepted the fact he was going to get drenched and made a note to pick up a new umbrella while out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quickly locking up as he left, Hubert shoved his hands into his pockets and made his way to the shopping district of the city. Lucky for him it wasn’t as far as the college, and there were at least a decent amount of places to catch some cover on his way. He still wasn’t as dry as he would like to be, but it was something. While looking for a store to purchase an umbrella, he stopped at the news stand. Normally he abstained from checking the paper, as it was full of nonsense gossip that he picked up on from Ferdinand anyway. But it also kept track of things like those who disappeared in the woods or were found dead just outside of them. Things that were more of interest to him now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paying for a copy, he flipped through it as he walked, doing his best to lean over the paper so the rain wouldn’t cause the ink to bleed. As he expected it was mostly the local gossip—a few actual bits of news here and there, but nothing that caught his interest. Stopping midway down the street he kept scanning for anything that mentioned the woods or, hell, even anything on the horseman. Squinting at the paper to try and decipher some of the waterlogged words, he soon no longer saw the rain hitting the paper nor felt it on his skin. Looking up, he blinked at the sight of an umbrella above him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your money is going to be wasted by trying to read that in the rain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nearly jumping at the voice that spoke up from behind him, he whirled around to be greeted with Jeritza’s blank expression, closer to him than he expected. Stumbling back a few steps, he made sure to stay under the umbrella but get enough of a distance from the other man. Though as he moved, Jeritza simply extended his hand a bit, making sure Hubert stayed dry—or perhaps he was ensuring the paper did. He wasn’t entirely sure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. von Hrym—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jeritza.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My apologies, Jeritza. Your concern is appreciated,” looking the other man in the eye as he spoke was hard, the cold blue eyes felt as if they were boring into him, just like in his dream. “It’s strange to have run into you out here though—that would be two days in a row.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeritza gave a small shrug. “It’s mere coincidence. I do leave my home for a walk every now and then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.” Coincidence. That’s all it was. For some reason it was a bit hard to believe. “Well, thank you for the brief respite of the rain, but I have errands to run…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Folding up the newspaper, he tucked it into the inside pocket of his coat as he turned to leave. Before he could take a step however, the other man spoke up again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, actually, would you care to join me for tea?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pausing, he turned back around, confusion probably evident on his face as Jeritza continued. “I believe I may have caused some unrest with what I said yesterday. Let me make it up to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Had it been that evident on his face, or was the other simply aware of how unnerving his presence was? “...Alright, though I must confess I prefer coffee.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a tilt of Jeritza’s head as he nodded. “You seem the type. I know a coffeehouse nearby. It will be my treat for inconveniencing you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hubert gave a nod as Jeritza gestured for him to walk beside him, ensuring that he was still covered by the umbrella. It was a bit awkward and he still felt… uncertain, about the other man, but he couldn’t say he wasn’t also curious about him. So he followed suit, though he made sure to stay as close to the edge of the umbrella as he could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Being close to him felt unsafe.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fidgeting with his cup in his hands, Hubert found it a bit hard to relax. It may have been in part due to the fact he had only consumed caffeine in the past 24 hours, but the fact he was seated across from Jeritza surely didn’t help. Whether or not Jeritza was at ease himself was hard to tell. The other man was completely unreadable. It made it even harder to feel comfortable in the current situation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The saving grace was that they were not </span>
  <em>
    <span>alone</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The coffeehouse was decently busy, thanks to the rain most likely. There were enough people inside that the conversations were well mixed together, not a single one could be picked out in full from the others. Which also meant there were plenty eyes surrounding them both to spot something should it go awry. It helped ease his nerves. But only a bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeritza’s stare was hard to shrug off. And unfortunately for him, he was the only thing that it could be trained on at the current moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, you said you wished to make it up to me for yesterday,” as he spoke he lifted his cup up, taking a sip before continuing. “Is there something specific that was eating at you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a distinct pause, Jeritza’s eyes looking down towards his own cup that he had yet to touch, as if he was considering his words carefully. Hubert wondered how much interaction Jeritza had with others.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When you asked me about the horseman,” he finally responded, looking back up at Hubert. Somehow, his eyes did not feel as cold this time. “I feel as though I may have… scared you, I believe is the right term. Caused you unrest. I apologize for such, it was not my intention.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he was aware of how his words had come across. “It was a bit intimidating, yes. You seem to have that sort of demeanor about you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I have been told such…” He seemed to be undisturbed by that fact. “But rest assured I did not mean to cause you any worry. I think the sentiment was only for those that encountered him in the woods, not for those who managed to escape them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And why is that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because you seem to be the first that managed to get out of the woods alive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How can it be for certain I was the first, though. Perhaps others managed to make it out—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” The interjection was stated as an absolute. As if Jeritza knew this for certain. Hubert narrowed his eyes as the other man continued. “Don’t you think if anyone else managed to make it out they would have been announcing such a feat? Most of the city is entrenched in the idea the horseman exists. What better way to become a local celebrity than to tout such a thing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You make a fair point,” his gaze moved from the other man to those around them in the coffeehouse. “Almost anyone would love to announce such a thing. But whether or not anyone would </span>
  <em>
    <span>believe</span>
  </em>
  <span> them is another thing entirely. Perhaps others simply wrote them off when there was no proof.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeritza simply gave a ‘hmm’ in response, finally picking up his own tea cup to sip at it, before giving a frown and muttering out “Too bitter…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Watching as the other man dumped around four or five sugar cubes into his cup, Hubert raised a brow at the action. It seemed rather excessive. “I take it you prefer sweeter things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gave a nod in response as he stirred the tea, taking a sip of it when all of the sugar had dissolved. While his expression didn’t really change, it came off as looking more… content than it had before. It was strange to see him in such a manner, when not ten minutes prior Hubert felt as if he was unsafe in the other man’s presence. He still felt such, but it was slowly and surely seeping away as they continued to talk. Perhaps because as they chatted it felt more as if he was talking to a person, rather than an urban myth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sipping at his coffee, he let the two of them sit in silence for a moment. It didn’t feel as strained as he thought it might, but rather quite comfortable. It felt reminiscent of days he no longer had, spending the rainy mornings sitting across from a loved one in content silence. Though this was largely different—they were little more than strangers, sitting in a crowded coffeehouse at what was probably nearing 5pm. Still, the feeling was there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you work up at the college, correct?” The silence was broken as was the moment with Jeritza’s words, of which he nodded to in response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I’m a chemistry professor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you must go by the woods often. How is it you stayed out of the path of the horseman so long? You seemed to only believe in the tales once you encountered him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hubert gave a scoff. “Even if I didn’t believe in him until I had my run in a few nights ago, that doesn’t mean I don’t recognize the danger the woods hold at night. There could be bandits or other dangerous people, even animals, inside.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see,” Jeritza’s attention turned to outside, eyes gazing past the buildings nearby and to the small edge of the woods that was visible. “So during the day, you believe it to be safe to go through?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I’ve gone through there many times during the day,” his brows furrowed a bit as he spoke. “Why, do you believe the horseman also lurks there in the day? Isn’t he a spectre of the night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeritza stayed silent for a moment, simply staring out at the woods. After a bit he looked back over at Hubert, giving a nod finally in acknowledgment of what he said. “Yes, I suppose that’s how the stories go. But who knows… things may change.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hubert frowned at that. “Are you advising me to stray from the woods even during the day time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are allowed to do as you please,” he gave a small shrug, sipping his tea again before continuing. “We are at best acquaintances, you needn’t take what I say to heart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Right.” Acquaintances. That was more generous than he had thought to describe them as. “Well I don’t go much into the woods anymore regardless. My colleague and I walk to work nowadays and he is strictly against the idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a second, it looked as though Jeritza’s grip tightened on his cup. “I see. He must be more superstitious than you, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unfortunately,” his words came out more of an annoyed grumble than he planned. “It adds time to our commute unnecessarily. It’s quite the annoyance, really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you find it to be annoying, why do you not simply stop?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hubert gave a deep sigh. “He’s persistent. And admittedly, the company isn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrible</span>
  </em>
  <span>. We get along in a manner.” He gave a pause for a moment. “It’s a friendship that while annoying, one wouldn’t give it up. Have you ever had anything like that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sat in silence once more as Jeritza thought on it. This time, his brows creased together, as if he had to think back quite a ways to remember. Hubert wouldn’t be surprised if the answer was no, or even if he had never had friends—the man was known for staying inside all the time after all. But surely at least something from childhood…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...I cannot recall if I did,” he finally answered, bringing Hubert back out of his thoughts. “I’ve had few friendships.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was about what he expected. “Have you ever tried making some?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am attempting to at this moment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The statement was said so plainly it took Hubert by surprise, mouth open slightly with no idea how to respond. Eventually he managed to simply breathe out an “oh,” which brought the other’s brows together once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Am I overstepping my bounds?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No—” his response was more rushed than he meant it to be, clearing his throat. “No, it simply surprised me is all. We only met yesterday after all. I am not adverse to it however, this time has been… nice.” He did not bother to mention the feeling of unrest that still nagged at him while around the other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This answer seemed to appeal to the other man, as his brows relaxed, though the rest of his expression stayed the same. Perhaps if they were to become friendlier with one another he would be able to decipher his expressions better. And perhaps he would be able to figure out why he felt so uneasy and unsafe around him. While he thought on this, Jeritza stood up, collecting his coat from the back of his chair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am glad to hear that,” he stated, giving what Hubert could only assume was supposed to be a small smile his way. “I unfortunately have other business to attend to, and I should leave you to finish your errands. Thank you for taking the time out of your day to accompany me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” Hubert stood as well, grabbing his own coat as he glanced out at the rain. “It was my pleasure… Thank you for inviting me, and for providing me cover from the rain momentarily.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s no problem at all. In fact… here,” as he spoke, he extended the handle of his umbrella to Hubert, gesturing for him to take it. “I live close by. You can return it when we see each other next.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hubert stared at the handle for a moment before carefully taking it. “And when will that be, exactly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeritza gave a shrug as he pulled on his coat and headed for the door, leaving Hubert to follow in order to hear his response. “Perhaps I will swing by the college for a visit. Or if you’d like to drop it off yourself, I am sure you are more than well aware of where I live.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was. Everyone knew which house belonged to the elusive Mr. von Hrym. At least that part of the stories about the other man seemed to reign true. “I’ll come by tomorrow to return it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How kind of you,” he turned to look at Hubert, giving a small nod. “Then I will see you tomorrow, Hubert.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hubert gave a nod back. “I look forward to it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, Jeritza turned and headed out into the rain, leaving him under the awning of the coffeehouse alone. Staring at him for a moment, he eventually opened the umbrella and made his way back to the main shops.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though he had left the other man’s presence, it felt as if something was watching at the back of his neck.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hello and thank you once again for all of the support for this fic so far!! i don't have much to say for this chapter actually but i do want to say i have uploaded the designs i sketched out for linhardt, hubert, and jeritza for this fic as well as have made a playlist for it! the links for them are as follows:</p>
<p>designs: https://twitter.com/giorfu/status/1262535905836806146<br/>playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1TNkuPjdonouNQ7Lpxpgmo?si=9QtMPuiqRHGsfWKhZGGrrg (sorry if you do not have a spotify... i will work on making a youtube version too, but i highly recommend every song on the list haha)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Holding Jeritza’s umbrella closed in one hand, Hubert stood with his own open and above his head outside of the other man’s house.  While he’d seen the house from a distance plenty of times before, being in front of it felt much more imposing. It wasn’t a particularly extravagant house—Edelgard’s was much more so and that was a home he’d visited frequently since he was a child—but it was very old and worn, not looking too well cared for. One would think that spending so much time in a house would mean the owner would at least put in the care to maintain it. Though after having met its owner, it wasn’t too much of a surprise that wasn’t the case.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still, Jeritza was supposed to be a nobleman, even if a reclusive one. There should be… </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone</span>
  </em>
  <span> around on staff to help maintain the place. Maybe the inside was better kept than the outside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Raising up the hand with the other’s umbrella, he carefully knocked on the door. After waiting a moment, the door was opened, revealing Jeritza himself, much to his own surprise. He expected some staff worker to come to the door instead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t expect you this early,” Jeritza spoke as he moved to the side, gesturing for him to come in. “Come in. You can leave both your umbrella and my own on that rack, as well as your coat.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hesitating for a moment as the familiar sense of dread pricked at the back of his neck, he did his best to ignore it, reminding himself that the other was attempting to become friends, and eventually stepped inside, carefully closing his own umbrella after gently shaking it out. While placing the umbrellas and his coat on the rack as instructed, Jeritza shut the door behind him. “I wasn’t expecting you to come to the door—is your staff not in today?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t have any.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You are a noble, are you not?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jeritza simply gave a shrug in response. “Perhaps in name only… I do not do much of anything required of having a noble status, nor do I have much of a fortune. I’ve mainly been selling belongings in the home to make ends meet. It’s sustainable.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I see…” Looking around, this did prove to be the case—it was a fairly empty home. There were faded spots on the wall that marked where paintings or ornaments once hung, since removed after the many years they must have spent there. Furniture was scarce as well from what he could see of the drawing room from the entryway. “You live alone, then?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Correct,” as he spoke, he motioned for Hubert to follow him inside. “I inherited the place from a distant relative when he passed. The rumors that circulate about me now started when he was around. Rather fitting that the heir of this home continue with the reclusive lifestyle the former head of the house kept up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fitting indeed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Following Jeritza, he scanned the rest of the house as they walked through. It was a large house, clearly showing the wealth the other’s family held at some point, but it felt even larger with the lack of furniture and adornments. It held the idea of once being extravagant, but it was now a shell of that. Still, it was kept up well—much better than the outside of the home. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why not simply move to a more modest home,” he stopped walking as he spoke up, admiring the longcase clock that seemed to be one of the few remaining furniture items left in the drawing room. “You have already sold off much of the furniture and living somewhere so big and empty on your own doesn’t seem very pleasant. I’m sure if you sold the home itself it would pay for something more fitting of a sole inhabitant.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I suppose,” Jeritza’s voice came from further in the house, not having stopped to wait for Hubert. “But it is a bit more effort than I want to bother with.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hubert didn’t bother to respond, instead staring at the clock for a moment longer before stepping away and following where he assumed the other’s voice was coming from. As he walked further in, he noticed a small picture frame on a table. It was the first he had seen of anything like it in the house, anything else similar to it having clearly been removed from the walls or what few tables and shelves remained. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Walking over to it, he picked it up to examine it. The frame itself was rather ornate, which seemed a bit much for what it held inside. What was framed was a rather detailed sketched portrait of a woman with long, wavy hair that was tied with a bow and draped over her shoulder. Her expression was warm, and she wore a brooch pinned to the neck of her dress. Squinting a bit, he brought the drawing closer in order to get a better look at the brooch. As detailed as it was, it was hard to make out at the size, though looked familiar...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A portrait of my older sister, it was drawn by a close friend.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jeritza’s voice came from right behind him, causing him to jump and fumble with the frame for a moment before securing it in his grasp. Turning, he saw the other man standing there with a tray of tea in hand, expression a bit displeased from the fact he clearly almost dropped the drawing. Setting the tray down on the table the picture frame had rested on, he took the frame from Hubert’s hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then the brooch she’s wearing—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, it’s this one.” Reaching up, he shifted his collar a bit to the side, better showing off the brooch attached to a plain choker, the same he wore when they first met. “It was a gift from her. I wear it daily.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And why wear it in such a way? It would be better seen if you wore it over your breast.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At the suggestion, Jeritza simply gave a shrug, moving to place the picture frame on a nearby shelf that was rather devoid of any other trinkets or even books. “She chose to wear it on her neck, so I followed suit. I don’t mind that it’s not seen, it’s more of a personal reminder of her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hubert raised a brow at his wording. “Has she passed?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jeritza wavered for a moment, as if not sure himself, before shaking his head. “No. But we were separated due to some events I would rather not get into.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I see, my apologies if I brought up some painful memories.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s alright,” the words weren’t very reassuring as they came from Jeritza, whose tone rarely deviated from an even cadence. “Regardless, I prepared some tea for us—I know you stated yesterday you prefer coffee, but I regretfully don’t own any.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tea is perfectly fine, thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Moving, he sat down in one of the two chairs that occupied the room—they were positioned on either side of the table that the tray was on and that had formerly had the picture frame as well. It was an odd arrangement, but he figured it was due to the fact the other had so little furniture left to work with. If he had to guess, this was supposed to be the dining room. It loosely resembled what he knew to be the one at Edelgard’s home, and it was much larger than what he had in his own. Normally they would have been seated in the drawing room, were this a proper home, but since that room had no chairs to speak of inside aside from a single reading chair, he supposed it was only natural to have tea here.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was fairly clear that the other never had company, or cared little for appearances and proper conduct. Though from what he knew about him, the answer was likely both.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I take it you don’t see many guests,” he spoke as Jeritza handed him a cup of tea, adding a ‘thank you’ as he accepted it and watched the other man pour his own before sitting across from him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I don’t,” Hubert watched as Jeritza dumped the same ridiculous amount of sugar cubes into his tea as he had the day prior while he spoke. “You are the first I have had over since I moved in, in fact.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That came as a surprise. He didn’t expect the other to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> withdrawn. “Not even your friend that did that sketch?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jeritza’s eyes glanced over at the picture frame briefly before they landed back on Hubert. “She is more reclusive than I am, if you can believe such a thing. If I wish to see her, I must make the trip myself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re right, it is hard to believe. Something like that would surely be town gossip by now.” After all, Jeritza was himself for the same thing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Her circumstances are… different,” there was a pause as he seemed to be contemplating whether or not to expand on such a thing. In the end, he decided not to, simply following up with, “It’s best rumors don’t spread of her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hubert didn’t press the subject and instead let himself stay silent, sipping at the tea he was given finally. It was bitter, much more so than he expected from the other man’s tastes, but it wasn’t unpleasant. He briefly wondered if Jeritza had chosen this as something of a compromise for not having coffee, but decided it was unlikely the other gave much thought into such a thing. He didn’t particularly seem the type to accommodate others like that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Granted he knew very little about Jeritza in the first place.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As the silence drew on, Hubert found himself looking more around the room. One could usually garner something about a person by how they chose to furnish it, how they chose to decorate, but due to the lack of pretty much anything as Jeritza had deemed fit to sell it, it gave him no such insight. What little that was left in the dining room was the table they were seated at, the two chairs, a bookcase that was sparse itself for reading material, the lamps that lit up the room, and a shelf that now only displayed the framed sketch of his sister. All he could garner from this was that he was a lonely man with little need for material possessions, and who cared deeply for a sister who is now missing, for one reason or another. He couldn’t even tell if the other man had any hobbies or interests. There was still much mystery that shrouded him, and it didn’t particularly feel as if the other man was going to offer up the information himself without prompting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Setting his tea cup down, he decided it best to break the silence himself. “You said you sell the furniture and decorations in the home to make ends meet, so is it correct to assume you don’t work?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jeritza nodded in response. “Correct. I realize that must be strange.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It is,” he agreed, not caring if that agreement bothered the other. “But it also must make your days rather boring. What do you do with the spare time? It doesn’t seem like there is much to do in your home.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a pause as Jeritza’s eyes scanned around the room briefly, giving a hum in contemplation, as if he wasn’t even aware of that himself. Eventually his eyes settled back on Hubert, and he noticed for the first time that the gaze seemed a little less cold. “It’s true, there isn’t much on the first floor for entertainment, or to even occupy my time… So I understand how that comes across.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That caused him to raise a brow. “So you spend most of your time upstairs, then?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” placing his tea cup down as he spoke, he stood up, gesturing for Hubert to do the same. “Come, follow me. I’ll show you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blinking at him for a moment, he did his best to not let his surprise show through on his face. He hadn’t expected the other to so openly invite him further into his home, but he wouldn’t deny he was curious to know more—though it did feel rather invasive as well. Still, he stood, and allowed Jeritza to guide him back to the entryway where the stairs were. Following the other man upstairs, he noted the creak in the wood as they walked, wondering for a moment if, perhaps, the inside wasn’t as cared for as he had first thought. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once up there, however, it didn’t seem to be the case. The upstairs portion of the house was more furnished—there were mirrors along the halls, as well as a few paintings for decoration. There were still faded spots where some had been removed, but it was less than the emptiness as the floor below. There were quite a few rooms as well up here, though they were smaller than the expanse of those below, and most were shut tight to keep from prying eyes to see inside. From those that were open, they looked to be guest rooms, though he doubted they were kept up enough for someone to actually stay in them, given who now maintained the house.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eyes simply scanning the halls as they walked, they passed by a branching hallway that led to another set of stairs, and a closed door at the top. The attic, Hubert presumed. He was intent to keep walking past without a second glance at it, but as soon as he moved in front of it proper, his nose scrunched up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something smelled absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>rotten</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stopping in his tracks, he could tell the smell was coming from the hall with the attic door. There was a draft down the hall that was bringing the smell along with it. Staring at it, he felt a sense of dread prick at the back of his neck. His pause was noted, as a moment later he felt Jeritza next to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I see you’ve found the attic.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The smell is horrid,” he commented, looking at the other man. “What is up there that’s causing it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jeritza stared down the hall for a moment before directing his attention back to Hubert. His eyes held the same coldness they did before once more. “I don’t know. It’s smelled this way since I moved in, and it’s locked up tight. I haven’t found a key for it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you don’t bother breaking the door down to rid of it because…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve gotten used to it,” the statement was punctuated with a turn of the heel as Jeritza gestured for him to follow. “And seeing as you are the only person I have brought up here, if I have grown accustomed to it, it’s no bother.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There wasn’t much arguing with that logic, so Hubert simply took one last glance at the attic door before following after Jeritza. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They didn’t walk far from the attic hallway before stopping again, and Jeritza pulled out a ring of keys to unlock a door at the very end of the hall. As soon as the door was opened, they were greeted with a small ‘mrow’ as a fluffy black cat bumped up against Jeritza’s leg. Watching as the other man bent down to pick it up, he noticed his face soften to something he didn’t expect to see from the other man: an expression of fondness. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was possibly the first expression the other had made in his presence that wasn’t impossible to decipher.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You own a cat,” he commented, watching as the animal purred contentedly from the attention being given.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, her name is Chrysanthemum.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like the flower.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gave a nod in response before gently letting the cat jump down from his arms, seemingly a bit disappointed to let her go. It was… a tad endearing, to see him so emotive over a pet. He certainly didn’t seem the type.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I normally let her walk around, but I was unsure of how you were with animals, let alone how you felt about black cats,” a shrug was given as he walked into the room to let Hubert in after him. “I suppose I should have asked before taking you up here, but it slipped my mind.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s alright, I have nothing against animals as a whole nor black cats,” he emphasised this by crouching to let the cat sniff at his hand, petting her when she deemed him trustworthy. “I’m not a man of superstition as I recall you noting back upon first appearances.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jeritza gave a hum in acknowledgement, simply walking further into the room. Taking a moment to look around, Hubert came to realize this was a study. The bookshelves inside were much more packed with books than those down on the first floor in the drawing room, and oddly enough, the walls were covered in decorative swords. Not something he expected.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is quite the collection,” he spoke up as he stood, straightening himself out and walking over to a case with a rather intricate rapier inside. “I would have never guessed swords to be a hobby of yours.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And what exactly </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> you expect for a hobby?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Giving a bit of a dry laugh, he looked back over at Jeritza. “Nothing, I suppose. It’s rather hard to pin down anything about you—you’re quite mysterious in that manner.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jeritza simply stared back at him, head tilting to the side a bit. This was something of a mannerism for him it seemed. “I suppose… That my lack of experience with social situations may make it a bit hard for me to be more open and easy to read. I don’t particularly aim to be... </span>
  <em>
    <span>mysterious</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He expected as much. “I don’t believe anyone that </span>
  <em>
    <span>aims</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be mysterious ever accomplishes such. But as someone like yourself with few friends and a reputation for isolation, it is something that occurs.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That is true…” Hubert waited as Jeritza paused once more in thought, something he realized will be a recurring theme with him. “I’m not entirely sure how to rectify such a thing, but I will do my best to answer questions you may have about me. After all, as I stated yesterday, I wish for us to become friends.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Right. Friends. “If I have any questions, I won’t hesitate to ask, then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a nod in response before Jeritza turned his attention back to Chrysanthemum, who was circling around his legs seeking attention. Watching him for a moment, Hubert turned back to the swords on the wall before moving to the bookshelves, scanning over the titles. Many of them were ghost stories—something that was a bit less surprising now that he knew the other was more acquainted with those sorts of things than himself. Most of the other books weren’t of note, history books and the like. Nothing that caught his attention.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Moving towards the back of the room, he glanced over the desk, finding it covered in papers that had half scrawled letters written or were blank entirely. Not bothering to stick his nose in the other’s affairs he turned to look elsewhere, though stopped when he noted a book on the desk. It was the same sort of binding as the one Linhardt had given him with the information on the horseman in it. Carefully picking it up, he looked over it for a title or indication of the author, but found none. Flipping it open, he only got to glance at what seemed to be a sketch of a large beast before the book was taken from his hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I would appreciate it if you did not touch my belongings without asking.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Turning to look at Jeritza, the other man didn’t seem too angry by the action, though was clearly displeased. It was a stark difference from how content he had looked playing with the cat only seconds before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My apologies, I got ahead of myself. I figured a book would be a safer bet than trying to handle the swords.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The response caused Jeritza to raise a brow, setting the book back down on the desk before turning to one of the cases nearby. “If you would like to hold one of the swords, you should have said so—I am more than willing to let you try.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was not the reaction he was expecting from the other. “Well—alright. I would like to ask about the book, however, even if while holding one of the swords.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Trying to hold one,” Jeritza corrected as he opened the case and pulled out what appeared to be a basket-hilted sword, examining it for a moment before extending it by the hilt to Hubert. “They are quite heavy and you are quite scrawny.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hubert gave a frown. “Thank you for the keen observation.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You are welcome.” Sarcasm did not seem to be a strong point of his. “But yes, I will answer some questions about the book.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Much appreciated,” he said this as he grabbed the hilt of the sword, giving a grunt soon after as Jeritza let go, leaving him to support its full weight quicker than expected. It wasn’t terribly heavy, at least not as heavy as he had expected, but it wasn’t particularly light either. “What is the book of? I believe I saw a drawing of a beast in it before you took it back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It is a book of stories written by my friend,” he spoke as he watched Hubert struggle with figuring out how precisely to hold the sword proper. “She writes fairy tales and the like. Would you like some help with holding this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, please,” he muttered out, noting the fact that this was why he was a chemistry professor and not in the military. “And if it is simply a book of her stories, why keep it so secretive?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They are first drafts,” Jeritza circled behind him as he replied, one hand placing itself on Hubert’s shoulder as the other slipped under the hilt’s ornate cage to wrap around his own hand, carefully moving it up. “I help her edit them at times. So to save her the embarrassment of a stranger reading an unedited copy of her work, I would prefer you don’t go flipping through them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I understand. I apologise again for flipping through without asking.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jeritza only gave a hum in response, making him acutely aware of how close the other’s face—and his body, frankly—was to his own like this. Keeping his own face forward, he did his best to focus on the movements of the sword the other was guiding him through, his hand feeling particularly warm under his, and his heart beating just a bit faster. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The wound on the back of his neck, however, felt as if it were </span>
  <em>
    <span>burning</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The silent moment was interrupted as a chime rang out from the longcase clock that resided in the drawing room, making itself heard all the way upstairs. At the sound of it, Jeritza shifted back from behind him, removing the hand from his shoulder and shifting the one on his hand to instead hold the cage of the hilt to allow Hubert to let go of it himself. “I apologise, I seemed to have kept you here longer than anticipated.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s quite alright,” his voice felt strained for some reason, and he took a moment to clear it before speaking again. “Thank you for teaching me to hold… that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A mortuary sword,” Jeritza clarified as he placed said sword back in the case before moving to lead Hubert out of the study, Chrysanthemum following dutifully behind them both. “Though that one itself does not have it, the name for the sword came after the execution of a king, as they then bore his death mask on the hilt.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“An interesting naming convention.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jeritza simply gave a shrug in response as he led him back through the house to the stairs, passing once more by the hallway to the attic. Hubert simply covered his nose this time and kept walking, noting that even the cat seemed to pay it no mind. How the animal could stand to ignore the scent was beyond him, but it wasn’t as if he could ask it for the answer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once back downstairs, he shrugged his coat back on and grabbed his umbrella from the rack, noting that the rain still hadn’t let up even despite the length of his visit. “I suppose it’s for the best I came prepared, though the rain is starting to become an issue.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I disagree,” the other man had picked Chrysanthemum back up into his arms at some point, and she was currently nuzzling against his neck as he spoke. “I quite like the rain… There is something calming about it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm, on that I can agree, though you do not have to make the trek to the college on a daily basis.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s very true, I have the luxury of spending my days indoors,” with that said, Jeritza opened the door, and moved aside so Hubert could step out and open his umbrella. “But perhaps I should make the visit up sometime. If you would allow me to sit in on a class, that is.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hubert couldn’t help but give a laugh at that. “I suppose you could, though it is not as interesting as you may think it to be.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am sure it will be enough to keep my attention,” there was a twitch at the corner of his lips as if he were trying to smile. “But until then, I hope the rest of your day is pleasant.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And yours as well,” he gave a nod. “Thank you again for having me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jeritza gave him a nod in return before shutting the door. Staring for a moment longer at the worn down exterior of the house, Hubert soon enough turned on his heel and started to make the trek back home. There was a lot to prepare for the classes in the morning as he had already missed a class, and if the other man was truly going to stop by at some point, he might as well start planning for that now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wanted to keep his interest, after all.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That night, Hubert had another dream.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was the same as before. He stood in the woods, rain pouring around him as the smell of iron filled his nose, and his feet moved all on their own, keeping the steady pace and unable to run. Stepping further into the woods, the familiar sounds of the horseman soon rang out all around him, and as his feet moved him forward they got closer and closer until once again they fell silent as he stepped into the clearing. Looking down, his mangled corpse was once again at his feet, just as gruesome as it was the first time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But this time, he did not feel ill looking at it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eyes scanning the area for the horseman, he spotted him not too far away. In fact, he was much closer this time than the other dream. He still bore the face of Jeritza himself, though his scythe was discarded on the ground, blood still fresh on it’s blade. The horseman—or, Jeritza?—carefully cradled Hubert’s head in his hands, it was a much more gentle action than it had been before. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As if he were carrying something precious to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Watching the other carefully, he tried to move forward, but found himself stuck in place. Only able to be a silent observer in his own dream. Jeritza was staring into his face, something… foreign in his expression, nothing Hubert had seen from him thus far. It looked kind, in a manner, maybe even fond. Slowly, he raised Hubert’s head up…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>...and carefully placed a kiss to his lips.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Eyes snapping open, Hubert stared at the ceiling, not moving from his place in bed. Lying on his back, he let the images of the dream sink in, all while a mix of emotions swirled around in his chest.</span>
</p>
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